My apartment mate has been instructed to work from home now, as even her department (part of healthcare in this city) is considered not quite as essential as it was a week ago. This, necessarily, means adaptation.
And I may have to stay out of the teevee room for eight hours a day.
Which is where both of our computers reside.
And the tray of pipes.
Well crap. I had not expected that I'd have to choose what briars to smoke on a daily basis so early in the morning.
It will mean taking more and longer walks. Good, I suppose, because it keeps the circulation going and will prevent my right knee and hip from stiffening up.
It also means that she can answer the junk phone calls; would you care to guess where the telephone is?
More meditation. More catching up on reading. More sunshine. More naps.
And less worry; I do not know where her coworkers have been, and what diseases they are blithely spreading.
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